


Where There's a Grill, There's a Way

by lucidscreamer



Series: 100 Yu-Gi-Oh Prompts [14]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Background Relationships, Bad Cooking, Cafe Owner Yugi, Crack, Food Puns, Gen, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Atem/Mutou Yuugi, POV Yami Bakura, Slice of Life, Unreliable Narrator, Vampire Family, Vampire Lord Atem, most of this takes place in a kitchen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-01-31 10:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18589252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucidscreamer/pseuds/lucidscreamer
Summary: The kitchen was a wreck, something Bakura knew most people wouldn't expect in a vampire household. It wasn't as if the family ever used the room for eating. Well, possibly Marik did. Marik was weird that way. But only Atem King had ever used it to do something as out there as cooking.Or, the one where Vampire Lord Atem has three days to learn to cook a gourmet meal in order to win Yugi Mutou's heart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: 51. The Hand That Feeds (100 YGO Prompts)  
> prompt: 05. Nemesis (10 Vampires prompts)
> 
> Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! is the creation of Kazuki Takahashi. No ownership of the canon characters, settings, or events is claimed and none should be implied.
> 
> Note: Crack-fic ahoy! OOC, silliness, and dubious cooking skills abound. Short chapters, unreliable narrator, Bakura POV. Also ridiculous made-up surnames. Look, this whole fic is ridiculous; just go with it.

Bakura Priestly watched with undisguised amusement as his vampiric lord and sometime friend lost his damn mind right in front of him. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion: you knew you should look away before things got messy but the morbid fascination wouldn't let you.

The kitchen was a wreck, something Bakura knew most people wouldn't expect in a vampire household. It wasn't as if the family ever used the room for eating. Well, possibly Marik did. Marik was weird that way. But only Atem King had ever used it to do something as out there as _cooking_.

Atem was currently wearing an apron emblazoned with "Kiss the Cook", and giving what appeared to be a large cookbook the kind of betrayed look usually reserved for people named 'Benedict Arnold' or 'Judas.' He had also just uttered what had to be the most ridiculous sentence Bakura had ever heard anyone say. (And Bakura was over three thousand years old; he'd heard people say some ridiculous shit.)

"I'm sorry," Bakura said, after several fraught moments during which he almost choked on barely suppressed laughter. "I thought I heard you say you're going to _c-cook_ \--" He sniggered, but quickly got himself back under control. "--in a _restaurant_."

"You _did_." Atem's expression dared him to comment. "And I _am_."

Bakura lost it. Howling with laughter, he clutched at his stomach. Eventually, he laughed so hard that he tipped off his chair and ended up on the floor, the chair half on top of him. He didn't stop laughing until he actually ran out of breath and lacked the control to suck in more air. His body still jerked with silent chortles for several minutes, until Atem nudged him in the ribs with the toe of one boot.

"Finished?" Atem asked, red eyes glaring down at him.

"Oh. My. _Gods_." Limp in the aftermath of his mirth, Bakura flapped one hand in a gesture meant to convey... something. Even he wasn't sure what. Possibly that he was questioning Atem's sanity (because he definitely was). "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Not yet," Atem muttered darkly, stepping over Bakura to flop down on one of the still upright kitchen chairs. Atem propped his chin on one fist and pouted at the mess around them.

"Well..." Bakura pulled himself to his feet and righted his chair, which he proceded to perch on backward. "I suppose that explains the state of this kitchen."

The counters were layered with stacks of dirty mixing bowls, various utensils, pots filled with goo, and pans with mysterious burned on clumps -- some of them still smoking lightly. The sink was filled with even more dirty dishes. Every available surface seemed to be covered in either batter, flour, or some kind of pink goo that bubbled faintly and smelled like strawberry flavored shoe polish. There was a new smoke stain on the ceiling over the stove. From a certain angle, it resembled the Eye of Sauron.

"Where did you even get all this junk?" Bakura wondered, looking around in something like awe. As far as he knew, they didn't even own a _spoon_ , much less what looked to be the entire inventory of a William-Sonoma. "Did you burgle Martha Stewart's house?"

"Never mind that," Atem snapped. "I have to learn how to cook restaurant-quality dishes by Monday."

It was Friday. There was _no way_ in _hell_. Well, unless Dr. Who dropped by with the TARDIS. Maybe then there was a slight hope. Bakura glanced around at the mess again and reconsidered. A _very_ slight hope. Miniscule, even. Bakura risked a quick peek at Atem, whose eyes were still blazing red as he glowered at a smoking pan encrusted with what looked the ashes of a burnt offering, and decided he enjoyed living (for a certain value of 'living' anyway) too much to voice any of his thoughts aloud.

"Why this sudden interest in becoming a chef?" he asked instead.

A dreamy expression replaced the glower and Bakura felt his heart drop into his stomach. Oh, no. He knew that look. It made all his self-preservation instincts sit up and scream 'danger, Will Robinson!'

"Please tell me you're not in love," Bakura said, in the hopeless tone of one who knows his pleas are falling on the deaf ears of the universe. "Lie if you must. I beg you."

"His name is Yugi Mutou," Atem said, in a dreamy tone to match the dreamy expression. He all but had little cartoon hearts floating around his head.

Bakura dropped his face into his hands and moaned, "Kill me now."

"Can't," Atem said. "You have to help me learn how to be a gourmet chef by Monday."

Yep, true death would be both more pleasant and more merciful than a weekend stuck in a kitchen with his lord. But one look at Atem's face was enough to convince Bakura that mercy wasn't on the menu. Resigned, he dug his phone out of his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Atem squinted at the phone as if considering chucking it into the garbage disposal. Bakura instinctively clutched it to his chest and hit speed-dial..

"I'm assembling the troops," he said. If he was going to be stuck in hell's kitchen for the next three days, he'd be damned if he was going to suffer alone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Are we actually doing this?" Seto Priestly asked with all the impatience of a man who would rather be anywhere (up to and including New Jersey) other than where he actually was. "Or are we just going to stand around and stare at one another in abject horror?"

Bakura, who had spent the last hour cleaning up the disaster area formerly known as their kitchen, glared at him. "You weren't here before I cleaned up. You don't know from horror."

"It couldn't have been _that_ bad..." Seto's gaze followed Bakura's pointing finger to the Eye of Sauron on the ceiling. Seto groaned. "What did he set on fire this time?"

"Water."

Seto pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, gods."

"Now you're getting it."

Footsteps thundering down the hall outside the kitchen door prevented any response Seto might have made. A few seconds later, a blond tornado named Joey Wheeler touched down in the kitchen and made itself at home by snatching up one of the lopsided cupcakes that had been the only thing from Atem's baking binge that Bakura had managed to salvage. Not that he had been stupid enough actually put one in his mouth, as Joey was clearly about to do. Bakura watched closely, waiting for the moment when the blond werewolf's tastebuds caught up with his impulsivity.

Three...

Joey shoved the entire cupcake in his mouth.

Two...

He chewed once, twice.

One...

His eyes bulged, his nostrils flared.

_Lift-off._

He made a choked sound of utter betrayal, then bent double and spat out the half-masticated cupcake to the accompaniment of a chorus of wretching noises. Joey grabbed a paper towel off the counter and used it to scrape his tongue clean before accepting the glass of water Seto held out to him. After chugging the water like he'd just spent a month in the Kalahari, Joey glared at Bakura. "What the hell did I just put in my mouth?"

"That's what she said."

Joey threw the used paper towel at him. "Seriously, dude. What the fuck was that, bio warfare?"

"Atem baked it," Seto said, somehow managing to look smug about Joey's discomfort even though he hadn't had anything to do with it.

Joey's eyes bugged again. "And you let me _eat it_?! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Seto rolled his eyes. Bakura threw the paper towel roll at Joey. "Clean that mess up. We've got work to do."

"Yeah? What kinda work?" Reluctantly, Joey knelt to poke at the glob of yellow cake and pink frosting with a wad of paper towels. Bakura was fairly sure it poked back. "You were kinda vague about that on the phone."

"We have to teach Atem how to cook--"

"Oh, ha-ha. Very funn--"

"--by Monday."

Both Joey and Seto stared at Bakura as if they thought he'd lost his mind.

"Have you lost your mind?!" Oddly enough, the question came -- not from Joey or Seto, but the new arrival standing in the doorway and gaping at them in what looked like a lovely blend of confusion and terror.

"Hello, _Mahaad_ ," said Seto, in the kind of tone most people use to say 'drop dead.' (Needless to say, Seto was not a big Mahaad fan.)

" _Seto_ ," Mahaad returned, in exactly the same tone. (The feeling was more than mutual.) Nose in the air, Mahaad then proceded to pretend Seto didn't exist, or at least didn't exist in this hemisphere. "Bakura, you can't be serious. Why would you even think of encouraging our lord to try cooking _again_?"

Because this wasn't the first time Atem had gotten the idea in his head. Why a millennia-old vampire lord thought he needed to know how to cook was anybody's guess. It wasn't as if he ate food. Well, not what most people would recognize as food, anyway. Though, come to think of it, the things Atem created in the kitchen didn't fit that category either, so maybe there was some internal logic there... At any rate, his attempts were never what one might call successful. Or edible.

His oatmeal porridge made a passable substitute for Spackle.

His rock cakes could be used to construct retaining walls.

His lava cakes should be consigned to the caldera of an active volcano.

He burned water, exploded hard-boiled eggs, and on one memorable occasion attempted to roast a holiday turkey while it was still inside its store packaging. Despite the fact that they'd remodeled the entire kitchen after that fiasco, Bakura swore he could still smell scorched plastic and overcooked poultry whenever the kitchen got overly warm.

Bringing his thoughts back to the present, Bakura eyed his co-conspirators. (Not they knew they were co-conspirators. Yet.) "In his infinite wisdom--" Eye-rolls from everyone but Mahaad, the brown-noser. "--Lord Atem has decided to become a gourmet chef in order to win the heart of the fair Yugi Mutou."

Seto collapsed into the nearest chair and began pounding his head on the table.

Joey slumped on the floor, one hand still clutching the wad of dirty paper towels, and whimpered.

Mahaad glowered at all of them. "Stop being so disrespectful of our lord!" He folded his arms over his chest and sniffed. "I think it's sweet."

"Excellent," said Bakura. "You just volunteered to be our official taste-tester."

Mahaad gave him the deer-in-oncoming-headlights look, then attempted to make a break for it.

Bakura, Joey, and Seto all tackled Mahaad to the floor and sat on him.

　

 


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Atem returned from his second trip to the local grocery store (the first trip having resulted in the utter catastrophe Bakura had walked in on earlier), the rest of their "family" had turned up from whatever rocks they'd been lurking under and were congregated in the kitchen. Bakura had taken a quick headcount and promptly set them all to work.

Seto, with his near-obsessive attention to detail, was declared _sous chef_ and given the task of prepping the required ingredients for whatever dishes they were tackling next.

Joey was on clean-up duty and had also been entrusted with the fire extinquisher. He had also climbed onto the counter and pre-emptively removed the battery from the smoke alarm. And then Bakura had made him scrub his sneaker prints off the counter because even if he wasn't going to eat it, the thought of preparing food where Joey's feet had been made Bakura gag. (Honestly, it was like the guy had been _raised by wolves_... Oh. Right.)

Odion was babysitting Marik (his usual job), with special instructions to keep the weirdo away from sharp knives, open flames, and anything resembling rare meat. Marik himself was perched on a barstool while paging through the battered (literally, the thing was smeared with cake batter) cookbook for a likely looking recipe to start today's torture session with. Every so often, he called out a suggestion; thus far, all had been met with a resounding collective "no!" from the rest of them.

Ishizu had taken one look at the assembled company and declared that she was going to go "scout out the battlefield" or some such rot and done a runner. She was probably seated at Mutou's cafe, sipping a fancy coffee and looking superior. Damn her. (It galled Bakura that he hadn't thought of it first.)

Atem, having delegated the putting away of the newly purchased groceries to Mahaad, was contemplating the apron Bakura had just thrust into his hands. His expression kept dancing between amused and blank, as if he couldn't make up his mind whether he should be angry or entertained.

"Just wear the damn thing, already," Bakura growled. The apron read "If the smoke alarm's blaring, dinner's ready!" in a hyper-cheerful font that made Bakura's eyes bleed. The cartoonish smoke alarm above the slogan had a screaming mouth, two hands clutching a knife and fork, and a red napkin tied around its neck. It was hideous, which made it perfect.

Grudgingly, Atem tied the apron on and went to wash his hands. Bakura put his own apron on (it said "Don't you wish your dinner was hot like me?") and followed Atem over to the farmhouse sink.

"So," Bakura said. "Which recipe are we mangling first?"

"Steak tartare!" Marik piped up from the center island.

"No!" everyone else chorused.

Marik pouted. "Why not? At least then he couldn't set anything on fire."

"Wanna bet?" grumbled Joey, hefting the fire extinguisher in what looked like subconscious preparation. Atem could burn _water_ ; no one was willing to bet he couldn't set fire to a dish that never went near a heat source. "Pretty sure he could burn ice cream..."

"I heard that." Atem chucked a tomato at him.

Joey caught it. "You know I love you, Boss Man, but you gotta admit, nobody's ever gonna mistake you for Julia Child."

"I should hope not," Seto said, most of his attention fixed on his phone. "Julia Child was at least a foot taller."

Atem threw a head of romaine at him. Without missing a beat, Seto lobbed the lettuce to Joey.

"Hey, now," Joey said, starting to grin. "Lettuce not get violent."

"That was corny," Marik piped up, pitching a parsnip at the werewolf.

Seto pinched the bridge of his nose. "Must-ard you?"

"Yep! I relish it." By this time, Joey had collected an armful of vegetables -- all tossed at him by Atem, Seto, and Marik -- and was juggling them. It gave a new definition to the term 'tossed salad.'

"Quit hamming it up," Seto ordered, chucking a bell pepper at him.

"Hey, what's your beef?" Joey barely managed to keep his salad in the air. He eyed Seto -- who was weighing an onion in one hand, as if debating whether to throw it -- warily. "Throwing that would be a gravy mistake."

"Water you talking about? An onion is never a mis-steak." Seto flung the onion.

Bakura intercepted the flying vegetable before it could result in another mess for him to deal with before they had even started cooking. "Put all the food down -- in appropriate locations! -- or I'll make you regret you were born, spawned, or brought across, so help me Jacques Pepin."

Everyone hastily put the food down on the nearest countertop. (Bakura was Atem's enforcer for a reason.) Mahaad grumbled as he gathered up the produce and returned it to the fridge. Seto immediately scooped the tomatoes back out of the crisper drawer.

"You don't refrigerate _tomatoes_ ," he snapped. "It makes them mealy, you purple-clad _barbarian_."

Mahaad muttered something equally unflattering at Seto's back, but settled when Bakura shot him a quelling look. Damn shadow-spawn. Seto was irritating enough without Mahaad egging him on. (Oh, gods, now they had _him_ doing it!)

"How do you even know that?" Joey asked. "It's not like you blood-suckers eat real food."

"I read," Seto said flatly.

" _Cookbooks_?"

Seto held up his phone, open to Simply Recipes. "Blogs."

"Since when?"

"Since five minutes ago, when this fiasco started."

"Then why am I browsing this freaking cookbook?" Marik asked, closing said book with a thud. It was a _big_ book, thick and heavy enough to make a decent doorstop.

Seto sneered. "Because Atem is a technophobe."

"I am not!" Atem protested, folding his arms and pouting. "It's not my fault technology hates me."

Seto scoffed. "It doesn't hate you. You just don't know how to use it."

"He blew up the microwave," Bakura reminded them. "I think it's safe to say that if technology doesn't actually _hate_ him, it's at least holding a grudge."

Joey, who was a relatively new member of the household, propped himself on the island next to Marik and said, "Why'd you blow up a microwave?"

"It offended me." Atem's eyes narrowed. They were also, Bakura noted, beginning to glow faintly crimson again. "Rather like you're all doing right now."

"Eep!" said Joey, and ducked down behind Marik, who, in an effort to distance himself from the werewolf, leaned as far to one side as he could without falling off his barstool.

"Uncool, man," Marik protested. "No using me as a human shield!"

"I wasn't!" Joey said. "Since you're not human, technically I could only be using you as a _shield_ , not a _human_ shield."

Marik threw the cookbook at him. And Joey might be a werewolf, but even a supernatural being couldn't take a hardback, unabridged copy of _The Joy of Cooking_ to the face without it doing some damage. He howled.

Mahaad dropped the dozen eggs he'd just taken from the fridge.

"Odion!" Bakura spun to face the guardian. "Take your charge and go do something useful, preferably in another room -- in another building. Possibly in another state, if you can manage it."

Obediently, Odion snagged Marik by the shirt collar and lifted him off the barstool. Joey, now sporting the beginnings of an impressive shiner, snapped his sudden mouthful of fangs after the departing ghoul, who just cackled madly as his guardian dragged him from the room. Bakura pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered what he'd done to deserve this. And then he remembered the kind of unlife he'd led and stopped wondering, though he did rail a bit at the unfairness of it all. (After all, he'd never stolen anything that had _literally_ been nailed down and his victims had all deserved it... mostly.)

"As for you, Shadow-spawn--" Bakura threw a fresh paper towel roll at Mahaad's head. "Clean that up."

Mahaad phased out so that the paper towel roll sailed through his suddenly insubstantial body and smacked into Seto, who glared at him. Mahaad just smirked and discorporated into a showy swirl of purple mist. It should have been impossible for mist to appear smug, but this mist managed it.

"I hate that guy," Joey grumbled.

Seto, who was glaring at the egg yolk all over his new shoes, concurred. "Join the damn club."

Bakura bent to retrieve the now-eggy paper towel roll and sighed. "I'll buy us jackets."

　

o0o

　

By the end of the day's cooking attempts, a tentacled stain that resembled a mutant octopus (or possibly Cthulu) had joined the Eye of Sauron on the ceiling, Joey had declared a blood-feud on Seto and his hypothetical descendants for seven hypothetical generations, and Atem had retreated to some suitably Byronic setting to mope over his presumably doomed _entendre_ for Yugi Mutou.

Bakura was left standing in the wreck of the kitchen, contemplating whether to clean it or just call a construction crew, and cursing the fact that vampires couldn't get drunk.

It was going to be a _long_ weekend.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd apologize for the puns, but I'm not really sorry. XD


	4. Chapter 4

The second day of Operation: The Way to a Man's Heart did not go any better than the first. Bakura was giving serious consideration to purchasing (or at least investing in) the local organic grocery store, given how many trips one or other of the family had made to it in the last twenty-four hours and were likely to make in the next forty-eight. Speaking of which, Odion and Marik were even now lugging multiple reusable shopping bags into the kitchen. Since Bakura had all but banned Marik from the kitchen while cooking was in progress, he and his guardian had been relegated to running errands as needed. This mostly translated to schlepping to the store for more groceries and cleaning supplies -- and economy sized bottles of antacid for designated taste-tester Mahaad. (As it turned out, shadow-spawn had surprisingly delicate stomachs.)

Marik dropped his armful of shopping bags on the floor (and on Seto's foot, whether by design or accident Bakura couldn't tell), and whined, "Refresh my memory, Atem. _Why_ are we doing this again?"

Atem glanced over his shoulder from where he was attempting to dice onions. From where Bakura stood, it was looking more like an allium massacre. Atem frowned at Marik and said, "Because 'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.'"

"...Only if your aim's off." As if to demonstrate, Marik plucked a knife from the block on the counter and flung the blade with merry abandon. With reflexes honed by years of living with the ghoul, Bakura snatched the knife out of the air and tossed it into the sink, where a Le Creuset skillet had already been sacrificed to the kitchen gods. (The kitchen gods were clearly not happy. Judging by the state of the expensive skillet, the kitchen gods were, in fact, _angry_. Bakura figured that, by the end of the weekend, they'd have to toss a virgin into a volcano to avoid an out-and-out kitchen god _smiting_. He was currently undecided whether to nominate Mahaad or Marik for the honor.)

"I'm not trying to _kill him_!" Atem shouted, drawing Bakura's attention back to on-going argument.

"Then you shouldn't feed him your cooking!"

Joey snickered. "The ghoul has a point."

"So does your head," Seto retorted, seemingly reflexively. Most of his attention appeared to be on the chicken he was preparing for roasting -- or possibly molesting. Bakura didn't judge. (Okay, that was lie. Bakura totally judged, everyone about everything. It was his hobby.)

"Oh, bite me," said Joey, which was probably not the best comeback when addressing a vampire.

Seto flashed his fangs and sneered with exquisite disdain. "Not even if you dipped yourself in chocolate and rolled around in colored sprinkles."

Atem turned around. Today's apron read, "I baked my other apron in a pie with 24 blackbirds." There was a streak of some kind of batter or sauce smeared across his cheek and a skunk's stripe of flour in his hair. He scowled at each of them in turn. "Less chatting, more chopping."

"Aren't _you_ on chopping duty, Boss Man?" Joey waved a carrot at him as if to underscore his point.

Faster than even a werewolf could dodge, Atem shoved a spoonful of something into Joey's mouth. "Shut up and taste this."

Joey choked, gagged, then rushed to the sink where he spat out whatever it was and rinsed his mouth repeatedly. Some of the whatever it was landed on the enameled cast-iron skillet, which began to smoke as it dissolved. "Gah!"

"How did it taste this time?" Seto sounded more resigned than curious.

"Like raw sewage." Joey rinsed and spat again. The handle fell off the skillet with a dull _clunk_. Joey stuck his head under the running faucet, either to facilitate drinking more water or in a spirited bid to drown himself.

"Hmm..." Atem tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Would you say that's better or worse than when you called it a war on your tastebuds?"

Bakura groaned. "Forget the taste. Was it at least remotely edible?"

"Everything is edible," Seto observed drily, plucking the remains of the now handle-less skillet from the sink and chucking it into the garbage can. "Of course, some things are only edible _once_."

Atem went back to stirring the pot of _something_ (even knowing which recipe they were working on, Bakura couldn't identify the substance beyond 'brown, goopy, and -- like everything Atem cooked -- potentially lethal'). Tossing things seemingly at random into the pot, Atem sniffed disdainfully. "Clearly you lot are incapable of appreciating my culinary genius."

Clutching at his throat, Joey continued to hack and cough over the sink. "I'm literally dying over here!"

"You're not literally dying," Marik snapped. Then he looked thoughtful. "Well, you _are_ , but not more than any other mortal. And you're longer lived than most, so quit complaining."

Before Joey could retort, Atem shoved another spoonful of whatever was in the pot into his mouth. "How is it now?"

Joey flailed around the spoon, jerked back defensively -- and then got a thoughtful look on his face. "Huh. That's actually not--" And then his eyes went wide and he lunged for the sink, where he proceeded to try to drink his bodyweight in tap water.

"Oops." Atem frowned at the pot. "I guess I misjudged the level of spiciness a tad."

"A tad?! Any more heat and actual smoke would be pourin' outta my ears!" Joey abandoned the sink for the refrigerator, where he grabbed a gallon jug of milk and upended it over his mouth.

Atem looked put out. "Hmph. Stop over-reacting. It was only _one_ pepper."

Gasping as he tried to catch his breath (and wearing the world's biggest milk mustache -- plus milk beard, milk chest hair, and milk hobbit feet), Joey glared at Atem. "What _kinda_ pepper would that be, _exactly_?"

"Um, I believe it's called a ghost pepper?"

A loud growl reverberated through the room. Where a second ago a pissed off Joey had been standing in a puddle of milk, there was now a pissed off _dire wolf_ standing in a puddle of milk.

"Oh, great," Bakura groaned. "Now the whole house is going to smell like wet dog."

 


	5. Chapter 5

After utilizing an entire bottle of Febreeze, Bakura declared the kitchen fit for inhuman habitation again and herded his entire family (or at least the ones unfortunate or foolish enough to still be in the house) back inside. As luck would have it, once there they quickly discovered that no one had remembered to take the pot of pepper-enhanced whatever it was off the stove, so the ceiling had acquired a third stain. This one looked like the love-child of Emperor Palpatine and a California Raisin.

Contemplating the new stain, Bakura shook his head; he was definitely going to have to get the remodelers in once this Weekend from Hell was over and done. And then he was going to have the kitchen remodeled into a home theater. If Atem persisted in his delusions of cookery, he could take up outdoor grilling. There would still be mayhem, but at least it would be mayhem that wasn't inside the actual house. (And there would be an entire pool of water handy for putting out the inevitable conflagrations.)

"All right, so whatever you were concocting before clearly wasn't fit for human consumption," Bakura noted, watching as Atem gave the pages of an open cookbook a desultory flick with the fingers of one hand. "Given Joey's reaction, it wasn't even fit for _lycanthrope_ consumption and since I've seen him eat actual roadkill, that's saying something."

Joey's offended "Hey!" was easily overlooked. Bakura continued, "With that in mind, I suggest we forget about that last recipe and start from scratch."

"I don't think I _can_ forget that recipe," Joey grumbled. "I think it's burned into my memory -- and my tastebuds. I think I'm gonna carry that one to my _grave_."

"It wasn't _that_ bad." Atem sulked at them for a bit before going back to his cookbook, the cover of which proclaimed, in an overly optimistic font, _You Can Cook_! (Bakura wondered if he could track down the publisher and force them to eat their words -- or Atem's cooking. Then again, there were protections against cruel and unusual punishment, even for those who broke truth in advertising laws. Dammit. Sometimes he really missed the good ol' days, when he could've just drained them dry and been done with it.)

"Believe me," Joey was saying when Bakura tuned back in from his revenge fantasies. "It was not only that bad, it was _worse_. Next time, just skip the preliminaries and set my tongue on fire. It'll be less traumatizing."

Seeing Marik perk up with interest at this suggestion, Bakura determined it was time to get them all back on track before someone ending up in the burn ward. Again. He grabbed the first cookbook that came to hand, flipped to a random page and declared, "We're making this. So, shut up and get to work before I decide to chop you all up and use you as garnishes."

Everyone scrambled for their assigned work stations, except Atem, who wandered over to peruse the chosen recipe. "Ginger-scented roast of beef with pearl onions and rosemary glazed carrots?" He frowned as he read the ingredients. "Do you think it will impress Yugi?"

Since _Bakura_ would be impressed if they managed to make it without (a) setting anything on fire, (b) giving anyone food poisoning, or (c) driving him into a stress-induced stroke, he simply nodded. Besides, surely it sounded pretentious enough to impress a local cafe owner like Yugi Mutou.

"Okay." Seemingly happy with this reassurance, Atem swanned off to supervise Seto, who was once again on prep duty. Seto sneered at him but kept mincing garlic cloves like his sanity depended upon it.

"What are we makin'?" Joey wondered, side-stepping Marik who was leering at a bloody cut of meat he was pulling from the fridge.

"At the moment? Marinade." Bakura hooked the meat out of Marik's hands before the ghoul could lick it. "I've told you before -- No slobbering on the ingredients!"

"You're no fun." Marik sulked over to the island, where he got his hand smacked with a wooden spoon when he tried to stick his fingers in the under-construction marinade. "Owies!"

"Odion!"

After Marik had been removed from the kitchen and a reluctant Mahaad re-summoned from the Shadow Realm, they got down to the serious business of turning raw meat into roast. For once, things were going relatively smoothly -- by which Bakura meant that so far nothing had caught on fire and no one had been forced to regenerate a severed body part. Go, team.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Joey asked, watching a solemn-faced Atem lower the meat into the marinade like he was handling high explosives. (Oh, now there was a thought. Bakura had yet to meet any problem that couldn't be, if not exactly _solved_ then at least made to go away, by high explosives. And if he blew up the damn kitchen, this particular problem would definitely go away...)

As if he was reading Bakura's thoughts, Atem shot him a narrow-eyed glance before answering Joey's concern. "I binge-watched three seasons of America's Test Kitchen last night. I've got this."

"Eh-heh... Sure, Boss Man." Joey began creeping toward the door.

Bakura nabbed the back of his sweatshirt and hauled him back. "Where do you think you're going, Dogbreath?"

"To get the back-up fire extinguisher and Syrup of Ipecac?"

" _Sit_." Bakura deposited Joey on a bar stool, then gave him a condescending head pat. "Good boy."

"Arf," Joey said flatly, and bared a mouthful of fangs which he snapped at Bakura's retreating hand.

　

o0o

　

It took a great deal of wrangling on Bakura's part, but eventually they managed to get the meat into the oven. Since that was one recipe reasonably on its way to completion, they decided to risk another one, this time some kind of smoked fish dish. Of course, that's when everything went to hell.

"Oh, wonderful. The oven's smoking and the smoker isn't. Just when I was starting to worry that something wouldn't go wrong for once."

Eyes so red they were almost glowing, Atem glared at the appliances in question.

"Dude." Joey shook his head and went to open a window to let the smoke out. "You can't Jedi the oven."

"It can't hurt to try."

"Dough or doughnut, there is no 'try'," Joey intoned solemnly, before cackling and dodging the pair of outraged vampires who lunged at him in retaliation for the pun.

Bakura sighed and went to find his car keys.

　

o0o

　

Six hours, a hasty trip to Home Depot, and three cuts of meat later, the entire family (minus Ishizu) had reconvened at the kitchen table where they all sat and stared at the serving platter in the center of the table. The meat glistened with juices where Seto had just sliced through the perfectly browned exterior. Joey had proclaimed the smell "heavenly," and even Marik looked intrigued. With great care, Seto served those members of the family who weren't constrained to a liquid diet.

Atem watched them like a hawk as Marik, Odion, Mahaad, and Joey all cautiously cut into the portion they'd been given. Either bravest or most reckless, Joey took the first bite. They all stared at him as he chewed and swallowed.

"Oh. My. _God_." Joey's eyes were shock-wide as he stared at his plate.

"Oh!" said Odion, also staring at his plate.

Marik and Mahaad exchanged glances. Cautiously, Mahaad ate a tiny portion of the meat. His eyes closed as he chewed, as if he were bracing himself. Then they shot open and stared at his plate as if he'd never seen the like of it before.

"Good gods," Bakura groaned. "Have you actually concocted something that causes catatonia?"

Throwing caution and common sense to the winds (as was his wont), Marik grabbed the slice of meat from his plate with both hands and shoved the food into his mouth. He chewed messily, juices flying everywhere... and then settled into the same staring, though since there wasn't anything left on his plate, he settled for staring at the serving platter.

The vampires all exchanged confused glances. What the hell was going on?

"Is it that bad?" Atem sounded utterly defeated.

The question seemed to snap the others out of their weird trance. Mahaad recovered first. "No, my lord," he said. "It is... _good_." He sounded just as shocked to say it as the rest of them were to hear it.

Joey snorted. "Good? It's delicious!"

He and the other three all dove for the serving platter and seconds.

The stress of two days of non-stop cooking and mayhem drained out of Bakura, leaving him feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He sagged in his chair, too exhausted to even celebrate. "Woo," he said wearily. "Also, hoo."

Around him, the others were high-fiving and Atem was wreathed in well-earned smiles.

So, naturally Ishizu chose that moment to put a damper on the festivities by drifting into the kitchen like a particularly apathetic apparition. To Bakura's eyes, she did not look like the bearer of good news, an impression borne out when she ignored them all to sink onto an empty chair and drop her head into her hands. There might have been a muffled sob in there somewhere, as well.

"Where have you been?" Seto asked, not sounding as if he much wanted to hear the answer. "You smell like over-priced coffee and despair."

"So... Starbucks?" guessed Joey.

After taking several deep breaths and making a visible effort to compose herself, Ishizu said, "I have been to Yugi Mutou's cafe."

At the sound of his beloved's name, Atem perked up and homed in on Ishizu like a Yugi-seeking missile. "Did you see him? How is he? Did you talk to him? Did he mention me? What did he say?"

"Oh, my gods, shut up!" Bakura shoved Atem back into his chair. "She can't answer you if you never stop talking long enough for her to get a word in edgewise!"

Atem's eyes blazed red. Through dropped fangs he growled, "Guess who just volunteered to taste-test dessert?"

"But I can't eat human food!" Bakura protested, visions of choking down horrifying baked goods only to have them make an immediate and unwelcome reappearance dancing before his inner eye.

"Pity," Atem said, somewhat ironically as there was certainly none in his voice. His tone softened somewhat when he turned back to Ishizu. "Just tell us what has you so upset, Ishizu. Is Yugi all right?"

"He is fine. But..." Ishizu took a deep breath. "While I was on my way home, I had a vison of your success with the... m-meat dish, my lord." She seemed to choke on the word _meat_ and had to take another deep breath before she could continue. "So it is with great sorrow that I must inform you... Yugi Mutou's cafe is _vegan_."

 


	6. Chapter 6

After Ishizu's demoralizing revelation, the family had collectively called it a day and gone off separately to deal with their despair in their own ways. Bakura didn't know what most of the others got up to (Atem had retreated to the attic and proceded to do a convincing impersonation of a depressed bat), but Bakura had drowned his own sorrows in a marathon of '80s action movies. There was nothing like massive explosions and Mel Gibson to cheer him up. (Also, the hair. If there had ever been an era in which he and Atem had no difficulty blending in, it had been the Big '80s.)

Now, Bakura stood staring into the open refrigerator and realized that they were going to have to send Odion and Marik shopping again since, according to the research Seto was doing on his phone, most of the stuff in there was verboten on a vegan diet. A glance over his shoulder showed Joey leaning over to read the small screen while Seto tried without much success to fend him off and swipe at the same time.

"...refined sugar?" Joey made a confused face. "What the hell?"

Seto finally got his hand on Joey's face and shoved him back. "Some companies use bone char in the refining process, apparently."

" _Eurgh_."

"You're a 'wolf. Don't even try to tell me you don't like bones."

"Not in my _sugar._ "

Tuning them out again, Bakura went back to contemplating the fridge and all the suddenly useless items cluttering its shelves. The meat, obviously, was out. Butter, milk, cheese, actually make that _everything_ dairy... all useless. Eggs? Ditto.

"Honey?!" Joey sounded outraged. "Surely--"

"Don't call me Shirley," deadpanned Seto. "Or honey."

"That's the last time I'm letting you watch _Airplane_ ," Joey grumbled.

Bakura sighed. They were idiots, but at least they were idiots who were doing some semi-useful, unlike Atem who was currently attempting to turn moping into an art form. Bakura rolled his eyes and picked up a bottle of Worcestershire sauce to read the label. Hmm, anchovies. Yep, that went into the non-vegan column, along with the mayo. He frowned at the ever-growing discard pile. Apart from the vegetables, the fridge was going to be bare again by the time they were done.

Feeling a headache coming on (which should be impossible for a vampire, but Bakura was talented like that), he closed the appliance's door and rounded on the bickering duo. "Find us some recipes that look like they don't suck. Then make a list of the necessary ingredients and send Odion and Marik back to the store for what we'll need."

Seto scowled at him suspiciously. "What are you going to be doing?"

"Talking Atem down from his metaphorical ledge." Bakura rolled his eyes. "Believe me, I gave you the easier job."

　

o0o

　

What confidence in his culinary abilities that Atem had gained from his success with the roast had been shattered by the vegan revelation. It took several hours for Bakura to convince the disheartened vampire lord that all was not lost. Thanks to Bakura's foresight, the time spent giving the despondant Atem a pep talk (which mostly consisted of "you finally managed not to maim meat, I'm sure you can reign victorious over vegetables") wasn't wasted as new groceries had been procured and, when he returned to the kitchen with Atem in tow, Seto proudly displayed the vegan recipes he had printed out for their use.

"All right, people!" Bakura clapped his hands briskly. "Let's do this!"

"This" turned out to be baking fresh bread for a vegan sandwich that Bakura could only hope lived up to the hype on the website where Seto had found it. Atem was pleased since the recipe was for a flat bread that brought back memories of the vampires' homeland and the kind of meals they had eaten when they were human. He liked the idea of sharing something of his past with Yugi. Bakura was pleased since flat bread should be simple enough; he didn't think even Atem could mess that up. Seto was pleased since no one was bitching at him for his recipe choices. (And the taste-testers were just praying this would be a repeat of the roast recipe.)

However, things quickly took a turn for, if not the worse, then certainly the weird.

Bakura eyed the bowl of brown-flecked goop that Seto was fussing with. It looked like a baby blob (the kind that ate Cincinnati in late-night movies) with measles.

"What fresh hell is this?" Bakura demanded, staring at the blob and wondering if it was plotting to eat _them_.

"Flaxseed egg substitute."

"I understood all those words separately. But, somehow, together they make as much sense as a chocolate flame-thrower."

Sighing as if _Bakura_ were the one being unreasonable, Seto resumed stirring the disgusting goo. It made little 'plooping' noises beneath the spoon. "It's something you can use instead of eggs in certain recipes. It's vegan."

"It's horrifying."

Seto raised an eyebrow. "More horrifying than actual eggs? May I remind you where those come from?"

Bakura had to think about that one. Where _did_ eggs come from? Some sort of animal... Birds? Though he thought perhaps reptiles also laid eggs... No, humans mostly used bird eggs, he was fairly certain. (Although, weren't birds somehow related to dinosaurs? So, maybe that-- No, wait. He was getting off-track.) Hmm. So how did the birds produce the eggs, then? Oh, yes. They came from the bird's--

" _Eurgh_."

"Indeed."

"Humans are disgusting."

At this declaration, Atem glanced up sharply from where he was preparing the griddle and shook a spatula at Bakura. "Yugi is not disgusting!"

"How certain are we that he's actually human?" wondered Joey, who currently resembled a ghost more than a werewolf as he was covered from head to toe in white powder.

Bakura gaped at him. "What the hell have you been doing? Rolling in flour?"

"Eh, I had some technical difficulty." Joey gave him a sheepish grin. He held up the large mixing bowl into which he had been dumping various dry ingredients. "Just FYI, never sneeze while measuring powdery things."

Atem's pointing spatula shifted to threaten Joey. "You _sneezed_ into the ingredients?"

"Er... No?"

Bakura snatched the spatula out of Atem's hand and used it to smack Joey on the flour-covered forehead. "Bad dog! Dump that mess out and start over."

"Hey, I only sneezed in the cornstarch -- which I'm mostly wearing. I already had to start over!"

Bakura folded his arms and gave him a Look. It was the kind of Look that threatened the entrails of the Lookee; specifically, that said _en_ trails would soon be _out_ -trails if the Lookee didn't do as he was told. "Well, I suggest you start over _again_. And make sure you wash out the measuring cup this time."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess that would be a good idea." Trailing little puffs of white like his own personal fog-bank, Joey slunk off toward the sink.

Bakura tossed the spatual after him. "Wash that, too, while you're at it."

"And hurry up," Seto called after him. "The not-egg goop is ready to be added to the dry ingredients."

"How can you tell?" Bakura wondered skeptically.

Holding up the spoon, Seto let some of the goop glop back into the bowl. It clung to the spoon, sliding slowly off in a mucus-like strand that made Bakura think of the last time Odion had gotten one of those plagues humans were always coming down with. It had made his nose run constantly, and he had coughed up something that looked exactly like the goop, brown flecks and all. Possibly it had been half a lung. All Bakura knew for sure was that it had been revolting and he had banned Odion from breathing in his general vicinity until the man was over it. Talk about disgusting.

" _Eurgh_ ," chorused everyone in the room.

"Are you sure we need that? Let me see the recipe." Bakura grabbed the tablet Seto had been using and then snarled. "Idiot. The not-egg goop is for the bun recipe, not the flatbread."

Now it was Seto's turn to snarl. " _Mahaad_."

"Oops," said the shadow-spawn, in what had to be world record holder for Least Convincing Sheepish Tone Ever, and then discorporated into purple mist. The mist blew a raspberry at Seto.

"Get back into a corporeal body so I can punch it!" Seto demanded, chasing after the mist, which was swirling around the edges of the kitchen, keeping the island between them.

"Oh, yeah," Joey said flatly, returning to pass the bowl of dry ingredients to Atem so he could complete the recipe on his own. "This bread is gonna be _awesome_."

　

o0o

　

Needless to say, the bread was not awesome. In fact, it very nearly was not bread at all, since the dough was entirely uncooperative. According to the recipe, they were supposed to divide the dough into small balls, pat the balls into flat rounds, and then cook the rounds on a preheated griddle or skillet.

This turned out to be a lot more difficult in practice than it sounded in theory.

After several minutes of the "dough" (which was really more of a thick batter) ignoring all attempts at dividing it, Atem scooped up a handful to shape into a flatbread. The sound of dismay he made garnered all their attention.

"Something's not right here..." Atem held out his hand to show them.

At first glance, Bakura couldn't see anything wrong. And then he saw that the thin dough was literally oozing through Atem's fingers. "Well, the dough does seem to be a little soft--"

The dough hit the counter but didn't stay there like a lump of normal bread dough. Instead, it got thinner and thinner until it most of it had spread over the edge of the counter and dribbled down to the floor, where the blobs oozed back together like some kind of edible version of the T1000.

"Okay," Joey said slowly, staring down at the mess. "That's not normal."

"Oh, it gets weirder."

Bakura looked up from the mess on the floor to find Atem had scooped up another handful of the stuff and was fiddling with it, shifting it rapidly from one hand to the other. It tried to overflow his palms, dripping between his fingers so that he lost most of it before he could transfer it to the other hand. Clearly, there was no way to follow the recipe instructions for shaping this dough into anything more defined than a puddle.

"Well, that's certainly _messy_ ," Bakura allowed. "But not particularly weird."

"Watch." Atem slapped the dough in his hand sharply. For some reason, that seemed to make it firmer, more stable. The instant he stopped striking it, the dough reverted to its more amorphous state and attempted to ooze through his fingers. Impact = solid; no impact = ooze.

"Okay, yes. That's weird."

"Congratulations," Seto said. "Somehow, you've managed to create a non-Newtonian fluid using a bread recipe."

"Great. Now how do I get it into the damn pan?!"

Silently, Mahaad offered him a soup ladle.

　

o0o

　

Sometime later, they all examined the results. No one was impressed.

"It looks like pancakes," Atem said, glowering at the finished flatbreads. "Weird, mutant pancakes. From _hell_."

"I like pancakes," Joey mused, sounding somewhat uncertain as he reached out to prod one of the irregular shapes with his finger. "But whatever else that batter was, it _wasn't_ pancake related."

"It wasn't supposed to be 'batter' at all," Atem growled. "Are you sure you followed the recipe?"

"Pretty sure," Joey said, with the kind of shifty look that meant he wasn't sure at all, but was hoping no one called him on it.

Looking dejected, Atem pouted as he poked a putative pancake. "Even if these... _things_... somehow manage to taste okay, I can't possibly give them to Yugi. They look like giant amoeba. Giant, cooked amoeba. I can't ask Yugi to eat giant cooked amoeba!"

Atem gave them a big-eyed mournful look that no vampire should be able to pull off, especially not one who was over a thousand years old and lord of his own clan. Even Bakura felt a twinge of something dangerously close to an emotion when confronted with that look. He gritted his teeth and managed to resist the urge to offer Atem a manly hug.

"C'mon, Boss Man." Joey sounded heartbroken and about two seconds away from needing a hug of his own. "It's a sandwich, not life or death."

" _Don't count on it_." The big-eyed waif look vanished into a crimson glow that promised painful retribution if Atem's impending meal with Yugi didn't go as planned. (At least the urge to hug him vanished along with it.)

"Eep!" Joey leaped behind Mahaad, who had been forced back into corporeal form for the taste-testing. Joey peeked around the shadow-spawn's shoulder armor at Seto and Bakura. "Please tell me you have some idea how to fix this."

Only in this family could making bread turn into an exercise in weird physics and death threats. Bakura was slightly impressed, despite himself. "I don't have a solution," he said. "But I have to admit I'm forced to admire the problem."

Growling, Atem dumped the bowl of leftover bread ooze on Bakura's head.

　

　

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the flatbread mishap sounds unlikely. But it's possible, because it happened to me when I first started gluten-free baking. (To paraphrase The Princess Bride: "Gluten-free baking is pain. Anyone who tells you differently is trying to sell you something.") I ended up ladling the ooze into the pan and slapping it with the ladle until it had baked enought to stop oozing. And it was edible, but mostly just because I was extremely hungry by that point. (It was still better than the first month of going GF, during which I ended up in tears TWICE after trying to bake things that turned out completely unfit for human consumption. Never trust the recipes on the GF "flour blend" packages. You'd think the companies that make the stuff would know how to use it, but you would be WRONG.)
> 
> If you want to see what the batter/ooze looks like, Google "non-Newtonian liquid" or "Oolek". There's some stuff on Youtube with people running across it in a swimming pool and a thing with a stereo speaker that's pretty amazing.


	7. Chapter 7

As it turned out, Joey _had_ read the recipe wrong and had mixed up the ratios of the flour blend by using too much cornstarch. He was quick to point out, however, that there would have been no need for a flour blend in the first place if Seto had noticed that the recipe he chose wasn't only vegan but also gluten-free. Bakura told them they were all idiots and to shut up before he fed them to Marik (who looked all too excited about this possiblity).

Joey leaned away from the drooling ghoul, who had a disturbing tendency to ignore things like personal space, civilized manners, and the 'no cannibalism in the house' rule. "What are you doing?!"

"Smelling you." Marik grinned maniacally, showing off his sharp teeth as he tried to lean even closer. He inhaled deeply.

"Oh, my gods, why are you smelling me? I don't want you to smell me! Stop smelling me!"

"Then I suppose licking you is out of the question?"

"... _Bakura_!"

Sighing, Bakura hauled Marik away from the werewolf.

"You said I might get to eat him," Marik protested. "I just wanted to see if he'd taste good!"

Bakura flicked him on the forehead. "No eating the minions!"

"Hey!" Joey objected.

Bakura spared him a cutting glance. "Would rather be a minion or a meal?"

"Minion Joey reporting for duty, sir!" Joey threw in a crisp salute for good measure and almost put his own eye out with his thumb. "Ow."

"You know," said Atem in a musing tone as he got a far-away look in his eyes. "I remember what it was like to be an only child... The silence of my solitary rooms, lonely walks in the palace gardens, no one to talk to..." He was silent for a moment before sighing wistfully. "It was _glorious_."

"You love us," Joey riposted. "We're a joy _forever_."

Atem stared at him for a moment, then glanced at the utensil holder on the counter. "...I wonder if I could stake myself with a wooden spoon?"

Rolling his eyes, Bakura dropped the latest apron over Atem's head. This one said, _If vegetarians eat vegetables, what do humanitarians eat_? (Marik had apparently picked this one out.)

"Are we still attempting a sandwich recipe?" Seto asked, not looking up from flipping the pages of the vegan cookbook someone had left in a prominent spot on the kitchen island. His ears were red, a sure sign he was still embarrassed by the previous recipe mix up.

"Hell, no." Bakura yanked the cookbook away from him and glanced at it. For some reason, the cover photo seemed to consist of an ungodly amount of cauliflower. "And _I'll_ be selecting the recipe this time."

"Then select a burger recipe," Atem ordered, crossing his arms and looking stubborn. "That's Yugi's favorite."

"Why didn't you tell us that two days ago?" Bakura demanded.

"Uh, and don't burgers have meat in 'em?" Joey added, raising his hand like he thought he was in a classroom. Briefly, Bakura wondered if he could send him to the principal's office. (Then he realized that, as the enforcer, he'd be the most likely candidate for the role of 'principal' and discarded the idea.)

"I didn't know before," Atem said in answer to Bakura's question. Then he glared at Joey. "And it would be a _vegan_ burger, obviously."

"Oh, sure," Joey snapped back. "I'll just go round up a tofu cow, then."

　

o0o

　

Tofu, they all decided after decanting a block of the stuff from its little plastic tub, was revolting. Perhaps it was a consequence of their enhanced sense of smell, but the liquid the tofu came packaged with -- and hence the tofu itself -- stank. It reminded Bakura of old gym socks left at the bottom of a damp duffle bag that someone (*cough*Joey*cough*) had stuffed under the seat of the car and forgotten for the entire month of August. In other words, to say that it smelled bad was like saying the surface of the sun was a tad toasty.

Holding his nose, Atem dumped the stinky liquid down the drain and plopped the block of tofu onto a cutting board. It wiggled unpleasantly. Leaning over Atem's shoulder, Marik gave the tofu a poke. "Is it alive?"

"It's bean curd," Bakura said.

"I didn't know it had bean ill," Marik returned, mocking Bakura's accent. "But that would certainly explain a lot."

Seto sighed and rolled his eyes ceilingward. "It's _made from_ soy _beans_. It's not alive. Stop trying to poke it to death."

"And get off me," Atem added, shrugging the ghoul off his back where Marik had managed to drape his entire weight so that he was hanging off Atem's shoulders like a man-shaped cape. "Do we need to have the conversation about personal space again?"

"But you smell good!" Marik whined. "That means I have to fall in love with you and try not to eat you until we get married and then I can chew on your--"

"OUT!" Atem roared, shoving Marik at Bakura, who swung the ghoul around and into Odion's arms as smoothly as if they'd practiced it. The guardian clapped a hand over Marik's still-moving mouth and had him out the door before anything lethal happened.

Ishizu gave them all a sheepish look. "I'm sorry. I thought I burned his only copy of _Breaking Dawn_."

　

o0o

　

Once things had settled back down, the remaining family members sorted out who was doing what to which vegetables and got to work. After two days non-stop practice, this part they had down pat. Working with tofu, however, turned out to be a new and unsurprisingly frustrating experience.

For one thing, the smell did not improve with exposure. For another, the stuff stuck like Superglue to the "non-stick" surface of the frying pan and, rather than attempt to chisel it off, Bakura made the executive decision to toss the whole thing into the garbage can. Since it had burned as well as stuck, they were at least spared the horror of actually tasting the tofu burgers.

Unfortunately for Bakura's incipient ulcer, Atem refused to throw in the towel.

Attempt number two went the way of attempt number one, with added fire. Who knew that something as soggy as tofu could burn so enthusiastically?

Attempt number three actually made it to the plate, but immediately joined its brethren in the trash when Joey pronounced the results "like a sponge soaked in boiled gym socks" and promptly tossed his cookies.

Seto saved the day by pointing out the bean burger recipes in the vegan cookbook.

As they worked on putting together the ingredients for the new recipe, Joey -- who was swigging one of his disgusting, neon colored soft drinks to "clear his palate" -- slouched onto one of the barstools and observed, " _Sooo_... What I'm getting from all this is that vegan restaurants basically suck all the joy out of food and then expect you to pay more for the privilege of suffering through it under their roof. That sound about right?"

"I'm sure that's not... entirely right." Despite his words, Seto did not appear convinced of their veracity. "I mean, all human food seems disgusting to me, so... I can't really tell?"

Ever loyal, Mahaad said, "Of course Lord Atem's beloved does not serve disgusting food."

"If he did, we wouldn't be having this problem," Joey opined. "Atem's regular cooking would be just fine, then."

Atem turned to level a blazing red Look at him that, if looks could disintegrate, would've rendered Joey into a pile of smoking ashes.

Bakura sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His impossible headache was fast becoming an impossible migraine. He wondered if vampires could develop brain tumors. Stress-induced brain tumors. Was that a thing?

Perhaps after he blew up the kitchen, he should take a mental health da... week. A mental health week. At least. Possibly a month. On a deserted island somewhere far, far away from Domino City. He'd learn to subsist on coconut water or, or fish blood (as revolting as that sounded, it could not possibly be worse than putting up with more of this crap). Mermaids! They had humanoid body parts, maybe their blood was passably human, too? Even if it wasn't, it would be worth the sacrifice to have a little peace and quiet for a few mon... years. Really, he was sure he'd get used to it after a few deca... centuries. It'd be fine. Good, even. He'd learn to enjoy it.

Joey dropped the bag of dried beans, which scattered across the floor in a million different directions. Bakura tried to resist the urging of his instincts but, like the other two vampires, felt himself compelled to sink to his knees so that he could count the spilled beans.

"Oh, gods," Joey groaned from somewhere above them. "I forgot that you guys do that. Sorry!"

"Shut up," Seto snapped. "You'll make me lose count!"

Joey snickered. "One! One beautiful bean, ah-ah-ah!"

If it hadn't meant starting the counting all over, Bakura would've leaped for the werewolf and ripped his throat out. With his teeth. As it was, he just said, "Shut up, Count von Count, and go get the damn dust pan."

　

o0o

The worst part of the whole dried bean debacle was that they weren't even _using_ dried beans, since those required an overnight soak before cooking. Not having the time to spare, they had opted to use canned beans, though apparently no one had told Joey.

After picking up all the scattered beans (1,423, for future reference), the three vampires had debated banning Joey from the kitchen. They'd ultimately decided against it, on the grounds that it constituted a reward rather than a punishment, and set him to chopping onions instead. With his sensitive werewolf nose, the strong scent of the alliums soon had Joey whimpering and attempting to chop while leaning as far away from the cutting board as possible.

Seto was concocting more of the godawful flaxseed goo, vindicated that he'd found a recipe that actually required it.

Bakura was helping Atem spread the rinsed and drained black beans onto a parchment lined baking sheet so they could go into the oven. "Are you _sure_ we need to bake the beans before making them into burgers?"

"That's the way they did it on _America's Test Kitchen_ ," Atem said, intent on making sure the beans were in a single layer. "It's supposed to improve the texture of the burger. Make it more 'meaty' or something."

"You dow w'at bakes burgers bore beaty?" asked Joey, who had one hand pinching his nose shut and sounded like he had a head-cold. "Beat!"

"What? Beets?"

"Meat!" Joey shoved the chopped onions away from himself. "Meat makes burgers more meaty!"

" _Hmm_..." Seto was flicking through the cookbook. "If the beans don't work out, there actually is a beet burger recipe in here..."

"I said 'meat' not 'beets'!"

"Vegans don't eat meat! They eat vegetables!"

"How about bacon?" Joey asked, looking skeptical.

"Bacon is made from pigs."

"And your point is...?"

"Pigs are animals!"

"So...?"

"Where do you think meat comes from, you idiot?!"

"Wait." Joey looked as if he were having a reluctant epiphany. "So what you're telling me is that bacon isn't a vegetable?"

Atem turned and screamed into a bunched up tea towel to muffle the noise. Seto rolled his eyes and said, "That's the point I've been trying to make, yes."

"Damn, this vegan thing is gonna be harder than I thought!"

　

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Count von Count is, of course, from Sesame Street.
> 
> The throat ripping/with his teeth thing is a nod to Teen Wolf and first-season Derek.
> 
> Marik is clearly a troll as well as a ghoul. XD
> 
> And I've never used the "vampires have to count things" trope before, so I thought why not. And then the Sesame Street joke just made itself.
> 
> I do not actually know how many dried black beans are in a 1 lb bag and Google was useless, so I just made up a number. Dried black beans are tiny, so I went with a higher number, but it's probably nowhere near accurate. (And I posted the unedited chapter before! Sorry about that.)
> 
> Also, I know that you can "quick cook" dried beans by boiling them for awhile, letting them stand for an hour or so, and then cooking them. But I have never had good results with that method, so I chose to ignore it. (And I don't think our intrepid heroes would be aware of it, anyway.)


	8. Chapter 8

Since Joey was adamant that anything was better with bacon, Bakura appointed him and Ishizu to scour the cookbook (and the internet, if needed) for vegan alternatives. This had the added advantage of getting the werewolf out from underfoot while the three vampires dealt with the beans. (No one wanted a repeat of the counting incident.)

Into the mixing bowl went chopped onion, bell pepper, various seasonings, dry breadcrumbs, the not-egg goo, some non-baked beans that had been mashed into an unappetizing glop, and finally the beans which they had dried out a bit in the oven. All this was stirred together and then popped into the fridge to chill for a bit before being formed into patties.

Meanwhile, Team Bacon began presenting the cooks with the results of their search. Joey vetoed the first suggestion since it involved tofu and he was of the opinion that marinating sweaty socks in liquid smoke would not make them taste like bacon, just like sweat socks that had been in a forest fire. As for the remaining options, well... All of them sounded insane to Bakura, and none of them sounded like something he'd willingly put in his mouth on a bet. So in the spirit of revenge, he declared that they would make them all (and force Joey to taste every single one of them).

Looking at the mishmash of ingredients spread out on the kitchen counters, Bakura couldn't help feeling smug. Ah, yes. Revenge was sweet, as was the faintly nauseous expression on Joey's face as they all got to work making the fake bacon.

"Are they _all_ gonna be made from vegetables?" Joey whined. "'Cause I gotta tell ya, the reason I always eat my veggies first is because it leaves so much room for improvement in the taste department that anything I eat afterward is pure heaven."

"Suck it up, furball," Seto growled. He grabbed a large carrot and, using a Japanese mandolin, began slicing it into wide, very thin strips. Beside him, Ishizu started assembling the marinade.

"I'm just sayin'--" Joey continued as if no one had spoken. "--I didn't claw my way to the top of the supernatural foodchain to be a vegetarian."

Seto gave a rude snort. "Like _werewolves_ are at the top of the supernatural foodchain."

"Look, you bloodsucker--"

"Oh, let's not start that old argument again," Ishizu interrupted, rubbing her forehead as if Bakura's headache were contagious. "Every species has its merits and--"

"Vampire rule, werewolves drool!"

"Very mature, Seto, thank you." Ishizu shoved a baking sheet into Seto's stomach hard enough that he doubled over it with an "oof!" as the breath punched out of him. "I will leave you to complete the carrot bacon while I assist Lord Atem."

So saying, she flounced across the kitchen to join Atem, who was pouring a marinade on some sliced portobello mushrooms.

That left Bakura with the coconut flakes -- and Mahaad. So, 'flakes' times two. Oh, joy. Bakura shoved the bag of flakes at the flake. "I'll make the marinade, you can handle putting the coconut on the baking sheet once its ready to go in the oven."

The shadow-spawn made a face at him, but otherwise didn't object to the division of labor.

For a time, the kitchen was quiet except for the sounds of industrious mixing and tossing until the various "bacons" were ready for baking. After they had the pans in the ovens, Ishizu clapped her hands together and announced that they should start work on the bread dough for the buns.

"Not me!" Joey held up both hands in the universal sign of surrender. "I've had enough of breadish things to last me a lifetime. If it's all the same to you guys, I'll make the ketchup."

Since everyone remembered the liquid bread "dough" from the day before, no one raised any objections. And Bakura made sure to double-check the recipe they'd be using to make certain it was the one they'd all agreed upon. (And most assuredly _not_ gluten-free. There was no reason for them to willingly seek out extra torture when ordinary baking was difficult enough.)

While Joey fumbled about with tomatoes and a food mill, and Ishizu kept watch over the baking "bacon", the rest of the assembled chefs got to work on the burger buns.

"Yeast is weird," Joey noted, watching Atem sprinkle yeast over a bowl of warm filtered water and add a teaspoon of sugar.

"So is your face," Seto said, sparing him a glance from where he was meticulously measuring the dry ingredients. "And if you so much as breathe deeply in the direction of this bowl, I will _end you_."

Joey pretended to zip his lips shut and took one exaggerated step backward.

From his position on the opposite side of the kitchen island, Mahaad said, "Should we not prepare the condiments now?"

"Hey, I got the ketchup going." Joey pointed to the small Crock Pot on the counter. "What else are we making?"

Ishizu looked away from her task. "Mustard requires too long to 'mellow' for that to be practical to prepare from scratch for a meal that will take place tomorrow. We could make mayonnaise, but that is best prepared fresh. Perhaps a salsa or chutney?"

"Hmm..." Setting aside the mixing bowl (deliberately out of range of any potential werewolf sneezes), Seto turned to the open cookbook. "There's a mango salsa in here that looks interesting."

"Can I ask a dumb question?" Joey asked.

"Better than anyone know," Seto said dryly.

Atem sighed. "Ignore him, Joey. There are no dumb questions."

"Is there mango in the mango salsa?"

"I stand corrected."

Joey hmphed. "I just mean, I'm allergic to mango!"

"We _are_ aiming for non-lethal food," Bakura said, leaving the _unfortunately_ to his tone and rolling his eyes at Seto. "Pick another salsa. And no mango chutney, either."

"Sure," said Seto, giving the pages a desultory flick. "Spoil all my fun."

　

o0o

　

The first batch of bean burgers fell apart in the frying pan. But all three testers (Ishizu having been press-ganged into joining) agreed that the taste was acceptable, so they decided to experiment with the cooking process before declaring the recipe a bust.

While they were debating cooking methods, the nascent burger buns completed their second rise and were ready for the oven. The various "bacons" had already come and out and been given to the taste-testers for a nibble. Out of three possibilities, each of the three tasters preferred a different option -- though Joey griped that none of the versions were as good as the real thing.

"So, if we can't use actual bacon... This sounds like a job for--" He paused dramatically. "-- _Ham_!"

"Ham isn't a vegetable, either."

The werewolf's expression hovered somewhere between betrayal and indignation. "Next you'll try to tell me there's no Santa Claus!"

Deciding that ignoring Joey was the better part of valor (and sanity), Bakura said, "Should we make pickles, too? Those go on burgers, don't they?"

Ishizu nodded. "We could do a quick pickle, though the flavor would be better with a day or two for them to marinate."

"So, the flavor will improve overnight?" Atem sounded intrigued. "That can only be a good thing, right?"

"Don't give him false hope," Joey chided, shaking a scolding finger at Ishizu. "It's what killed the dinosaurs, y'know."

Seto snickered. "Are you sure it wasn't Atem's cooking?"

"Hey! I'm not _that_ old," protested Atem. He didn't bother protesting the slur against his cooking, even he wasn't that delusional, and just looked around for something to throw.

"Says who?" Joey danced away from the potholder Atem winged at him. "Ha! Missed me, old man." He ducked an airborne oven mitt. "Your eyesight must be goin' due to your advanced years!"

"Seto's older than me -- and so's Bakura!" Atem finally succeeded in nailing the werewolf on the nose with a potholder. Joey hammed it up, clutching at his face and pretending to be wounded as he collapsed to the floor. "Ha! Take that, vile insulter!"

Seto tossed a tablecloth over the vanquished foe's "body" and high-fived his lord, who immediately started doing a victory dance that wouldn't have been out of place in a '70s disco.

Bakura shared a long-suffering look with Ishizu, who rolled her eyes and said, "So. Pickles?"

"Pickles," Bakura agreed firmly.

"Pickles," Mahaad intoned solemnly, "are cucumbers soaked in evil." He blinked, as if considering something, and added, "And vinegar."

　

o0o

　

They had to send Marik to the store for cucumbers, that being one item that hadn't made the previous shopping list. The weirdo returned with several pounds of cucumbers, tiny pearl onions, red bell peppers, and enough cauliflower to photograph his own cookbook cover.

Bakura stared at the vegetables spread out on the table and made a silent "what the hell?" gesture at Marik, demanding an explanation.

" _Piiiickles_ ," Marik said, with exaggerated slowness. "Specifically, pickled mixed vegetables. They're sweet and yummy. And yellow!"

Blinking at the enthused (and possibly color-blind? None of the vegetables looked yellow to Bakura) ghoul, Bakura said, "...I really don't think I want to know." And wandered off to find someone less brain-breaking to talk to.

Behind him, Marik shouted, "And they go really good with roadkill!"

Oh, for fuck's sake... "Odion!"

Nothing happened. Bakura waited another moment, but no one appeared to whisk the grinning ghoul away. Bakura looked around in confusion.

Ishizu gave him a sympathetic look. "Odion isn't here."

"Why the hell not?" Bakura demanded. The guy had _one job_... "Where is he, then?"

"He said something about needing a vacation and booked a cruise to Puerto Vallarta."

The bastard! It was no coconut grove on a deserted tropical island, but it would have done in a pinch -- and that bastard Odion hadn't even asked Bakura to go with. He sneered at the man _in absentia_ , and then snapped, "Cancel his credit cards," at Isis.

It was a sign of how stressed out they all were that she didn't even pretend to object, just smiled the slow, snakelike smile of a wronged woman about to get a taste of sweet revenge. She pulled out her phone. "With pleasure."

Bakura smirked. That'd teach Odion to bail on them. He thought for a moment. Did they know any Sirens? Maybe they could convince one to call up a tropical storm or two and ruin what was left of Odion's little get-away...

　

 


	9. Chapter 9

The one good thing Bakura could say about the bun recipe was that this time the bread actually looked like bread and not a sponge that had been run over by a steamroller. That said, they looked nothing like the fluffy, golden brown buns in the book. Clearly, the cauliflower publisher was as much of a lying liar as the You Can Cook! company.

Joey gave one of the oddly shaped and unevenly baked buns a desultory poke. "I don't care what ya threaten me with, I ain't puttin' that in my mouth."

Because the bun was the worse threat went without saying.

"I'd eat worms if you threatened me with that bun," Marik said, because he was Marik and nothing went without saying if you were Marik.

Seto looked up from his tired slump at the table and growled, "You eat worms anyway."

"Oh. Yeah."

Bakura picked up one of the buns. It was oddly heavy for its size and, when tapped on the table, produced a thudding sound reminiscent of two bricks colliding. If used in a food fight, it could probably do some real damage. Unfortunately, they were trying to make comestibles not invent the real life version of Dwarf battle buns. He dropped the offending bread back onto the plate and swore he heard the ceramic crack under the impact.

"Okay, ignoring the ...bread for now, why don't we try frying up another of the burger patties and see how it goes?"

The second patty crumbled apart even more badly than the first, completely shattering when Seto attempted to flip it over to cook the other side.

"At least it tastes good," Joey reminded them.

"Maybe we should try baking them," Ishizu suggested, though somewhat dubiously. Historically, baking had not gone well for them up to this point.

"Are vegan sloppy joes a thing?" wondered Joey, poking at the crumbles. "I feel like we could manage sloppy joes."

"Yugi likes burgers," Atem said, though without his usual forcefullness. He took the pan away from Joey and dumped its contents into the trash.

"Right. Well--" Bakura clapped his hands and tried to sound upbeat when he said, "Let's try again!"

Several internet searches later, they formed a new batch of burger "dough" into patties. Some of them went onto a baking sheet and into a moderate oven. Some were set aside for the indoor grill. The remainder would be held in reserve for frying as a last resort.

"Must the buns be homemade?" Ishizu wondered. "There is a lovely bakery downtown..."

"A vegan bakery?" Mahaad asked.

Ishizu's face fell. "Well, no..." She sighed. "I will start a new batch of bread dough."

"Bunless burgers are a thing, y'know."

In perfect sync with Bakura, Ishizu shot Joey a quelling look. He flung up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! Cool it with the Eye-Lasers of Doom over there!"

They made bread dough. They began a new batch of the bean burger mixture, since their experimentation had blown through the first one. They continued making an assortment of condiments. At least those seemed to be turning out okay -- until it occured to Bakura that the homemade mayo Ishizu had mentioned earlier recquired eggs, and then they had to scurry for a vegan substitute.

Seto was once again in charge of the cookbook. "There's a tofu mayo--"

"NO TOFU." From the obstinate look on the werewolf's face, this was a hill he was prepared to die on.

" _Fine_ ," Seto snapped, and went back to browsing. After a few moments in which the only sound was the stand-mixer's dough hook working the bread dough into stretchy, glutinous submission, he said, "Well, there's a recipe for vegan mayonnaise that uses flaxseeds..."

"Dear gods," Bakura groaned. "Is there nothing these vegans won't do to poor, unsuspecting flaxseeds?"

The worst his own people had ever done with the things was make oil out of them. Mostly, they'd just done as nature intended and let flaxseeds grow into flax plants. And then they'd made linen out of the plants, but still... There'd been none of this egg-replacer, mock mayonnaise nonsense. What was next, flaxseed "bread"? Where did the insanity end?!

"I gotta agree with Bakura on this one," Joey said, eyeing Seto. "And I kinda wonder when your weird obsession with flaxseeds started. It's every other recipe with you."

"I do not have an obsession with flaxseeds!" Seto flung a fork at him.

Joey caught it an inch from his nose. "Careful, fang-face, or I'll dump a handful of flax on the floor and we'll see how much of an obsession ya got."

Atem looked up from where he was stirring seasonings into the pickle brine on the stove and growled. "Spill anything that triggers our counting compulsion and I swear by all the gods that I will hang the offender from a flag pole by their favorite body part."

"Eep!"

After that declaration, everyone was extremely careful while measuring anything granular and/or seed-like. Bakura just hid a proud smile. (It was moments like that which reminded him why he occasionally liked Atem.)

Once the new (and hopefully less catastrophic) bread recipe had been dealt with and the dough was rising beneath the shelter of a clean linen towel (which Bakura had been tempted to wave at Seto as a demonstration of the _proper_ use of flaxseeds), they turned to the vexing problem of vegan mayo.

It said something, though probably nothing good, that the least objectional version was the flaxseed-perversion one.

"Nothing good can possibly come of this," Bakura said, watching Seto add lemon juice and water to the flaxseeds already in the blender jar.

"Shut up and let me work," Seto grumbled, reaching for the oil.

"I'm beginning to think Wheeler is right and you do have some sort of sick obsession with those seeds..."

Meeting Bakura's glare with one of his own, Seto switched on the blender without bothering to look at the controls -- or put the cap on. Wet, lemon-flavored flaxseeds went everywhere.

Bakura clamped a hand over Atem's eyes and covered his own. Just in time, too, as he heard Seto's knees hit the floor as the other vampire began to count. Atem's low-voiced praise for Bakura's quick thinking was almost drowned out by Joey's howls of laughter.

　

o0o

　

After Bakura convinced Atem that hanging Seto from a flag pole would take too much time (finding a flag pole, for starters), he ordered everyone currently not a vampire to clean up the proto-mayo mess while the vampires made themselves scarce. Once the kitchen was deemed flaxseed free (Bakura had seconded Atem's executive decision to put flaxseed on the banned list alongside tofu), the vampires returned and everyone got back to the business of cooking.

"Does Yugi even like mayo?" Joey asked, frowing at the cookbook he'd wrestled away from Seto. "I mean, some people don't."

Atem frowned. "I don't know."

"Well... Can'tcha call and ask 'im?"

"No. This is supposed to be a surprise."

"Let's assume he can live without mayonnaise and move on, shall we?" Bakura said, determined to get things back on track. They were running out of time.

Ishizu attempted to take over the bulk of the baking, but since the entire point of this exercise was for Atem to cook a meal for Yugi, Atem insisted on doing the work himself. Bakura couldn't fault the other vampire for that, nor for the care he took reading each recipe through and then re-checking each step before he attempted it. Bakura hadn't seen Atem put so much effort into anything since he was ruling an actual kingdom.

So it was all the more devastating when the buns were another bust and the burgers still broke apart in the pan.

The silence in the kitchen was deafening. And then Atem spoke.

"I give up," Atem said, in the smallest voice Bakura had ever heard him use. Coming from Atem, who did everything big, it was enough to shock everyone else (even Marik) into startled, still silence.

After a long moment in which no one moved, Atem pushed himself up from the table and trudged from the kitchen, looking like the personification of defeat.

"Well, shit," said Seto.

Which pretty much said it all.

　

o0o

　

With the next day being the deadline for Atem's gourmet debut, no one was quite sure what to do in the face of his capitulation. It didn't help that no one could find him after he slunk from the kitchen and apparently disappeared off the face of the planet.

None of his usual "gloom and doom spots" (as Bakura thought of them) yielded any sign of the depressed vampire and, after an hour of thorough searching, even Bakura was becoming genuinely worried.

"Where could he be?" Ishizu fretted, wringing her hands. She had tried inducing a vision of his whereabouts, but the "psychic currents" weren't cooperating.

"He's just moping," Seto said. He'd been in charge of calling all of Atem's favorite haunts, with comparable results. He wasn't happy about his failure and was trying to appear unaffected. "I'm sure he's fine."

"I dunno. He seemed pretty upset to me." The werewolf had just returned from sniffing around the neighborhood in the hopes of picking up Atem's scent trail. Unfortunately, there had been a recent rash of skunks in the area and the little bastards had been rather busy in the overnight hours. (In other words, the whole neighborhood stunk of skunk.) So, Joey hadn't had any success to report for his efforts.

Bakura, with the dubious "help" of the ghoul, had searched the house from attic to cellar with no better results than the others -- although he had had the dubious pleasure of discovering the literal skeleton in Marik's closet. (Honestly, if the weirdo wasn't Ishizu's brother, Bakura would've tossed him out on his ear ages ago.)

The shadow-spawn had agreed to try looking in some of the more accessible dimensions on the off-chance that Atem had decided to go reality hopping (possibly in search of one where he could cook). Since he hadn't returned yet, they could only assume that Mahaad wasn't having any better tluck than the rest of them.

And Odion, of course, was sipping Mai Tais and lounging on the deck of a cruise ship headed for sunnier shores and palm trees. (Bakura rather hoped the traitor got brained by ballistic coconuts.)

For now, Bakura had re-assembled the troops in the kitchen and called for a council of war. At least he hoped it was war; if this turned into a search and rescue mission, someone was going to get barbequed. At least Marik would be happy. He'd probably bring the BBQ sauce -- and a bag of marshmallows to toast for dessert.

"What're we gonna do now?" wondered Joey, sounding despondent. "What if the Boss Man needs us and we can't find him?"

"He doesn't 'need' us," Seto scoffed. "He's a 3,000 year old vampire lord. He's _fine_."

Joey didn't seem to hear him. "What if he's in a ditch somewhere with a broken leg? Or a broken arm? Or a broken leg _and_ a broken arm?"

"He'd heal. He's a _vampire_."

"What if vampire hunters are after him?! What if they have holy water and wooden stakes?!"

"Oh, for-- He's FINE."

"How would you know? Huh? Even the psychic hotline over there can't get a handle on him! What makes you think you know anything?"

"I know that holy water doesn't actually do anything to us and that he's very good at dodging stakes or he wouldn't still be walking around after three millennia," Seto snapped. "And the three of us--" Meaning Seto, Bakura, and Atem. "--share a blood bond. We'd know if he were really in danger."

"Oh, yeah? How come you can't find him, then?" Joey snorted. "Some bond."

Bakura rubbed the ache in his forehead. "He's blocking it."

Ishizu's eyes widened as she stared at him. "Lord Atem can do that?"

"Of course he can," Seto groused. "He's a master vampire."

Bakura nodded. "His power lets him manipulate the bond to suit himself."

"And of course it suits him to disappear for a good sulk." Behind Seto's complaining, Bakura could see genuine concern but he wasn't going to call Seto on it just yet. "It would serve him right if we just left him to it. Let him miss out on whatever was so urgent about cooking for Yugi Mutou in the first place."

"Oh." Ishizu looked surprised. "Didn't he tell you?"

"Tell us what?" asked Joey, looking equally surprised. "Bakura just said the Boss Man wanted to learn how to cook a meal in order to impress Yugi."

"Oh, no," Ishizu said, pressing a hand to her throat as if that would hold in her shock. "It's much more than that!"

"What do you mean?"

"The meal is to celebrate Yugi's birthday," Ishizu said, continuing to clutch her non-existent pearls. "And I believe that Lord Atem had intended to... well, to propose."

Well, damn. Bakura felt a shiver of dread at this new revelation. Maybe it wasn't going to be so simple to find Atem, after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tofu mayo is an abomination. I can't get past the smell. (The flaxseed mayo is actually pretty good, but the texture is like marshmallow fluff, so it's also extremely weird.)
> 
> Flaxseed "bread" is a thing. I've made the "wraps" version (which didn't wrap) and crackers, which are actually very tasty if you get them thin enough that they're crunchy but not so thin that they burn before the middle is done. This is harder than it sounds, at least if you're me and have a tendency to forget that you have something in the oven and need to keep your eye on it...


	10. Chapter 10

It turned out that Atem had been dating Yugi Mutou longer than any of them -- bar Ishizu, who hadn't bothered to share with the class until now -- had realized. Atem wasn't just infatuated, he was "head over heels, picking out china patterns, naming the hypothetical kids" _in love_ with a capital L-O-V-E. Which meant things were even worse than Bakura had imagined because Atem hadn't just slunk off somewhere to sulk like the giant drama pharaoh he was. With actual love on the line, there was no telling what he was doing in the depths of his melodramatic despair.

Bakura was determined to leave no stone unturned in his quest to find the missing vampire lord. He'd kept the idiot alive, or at least _undead_ , for over three millennia; he'd be damned if he let Atem ruin Bakura's perfect record now. (The fact that he was genuinely concerned about Atem's state of mind, was something that Bakura had carefully buried deep, deep, _deep_ down in the murky depths of his subconscious where it couldn't get him accused of icky, touchy-feely things like "friendship" or "brotherhood". He shuddered just to (not) think of it.)

"All right, listen up," Bakura said, casting a jaundiced eye over his assembled troops. They weren't much to look at, but they were all he had to work with, so... Needs must. "What I want out of each of each and every one of you is a hard target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, outhouse, henhouse or doghouse in the area."

Everyone stared at him as if he'd lost his mind -- except for Seto, who groaned. "Did you just quote Tommy Lee Jones' speech from _The Fugitive_?"

"What are you, the Quote Police?"

The other vampire glowered at him. Bakura chose to take this to mean "no, and I'm sorry for backtalking you, O noble second in command." (He might have been a tad liberal with his translation.)

"Then shut the hell up and get to searching," Bakura growled, then resumed his Tommy Lee Jones impersonation to add, "And don't argue with the Big Dog."

"Awooo!" Joey howled, grabbed Seto's arm, and hauled the taller man with him as he raced out into the night.

Ishizu settled herself firmly at the table, pulled out a romance novel from... somewhere... and announced that she would stay behind in case she had a vision or Atem turned up on his own.

Bakura decided it would take too long to argue with her. "Give me a call if your psychic network phones in a clue."

She grimaced at him, but nodded before turning her attention to her book.

Which left Bakura with Marik. The ghoul grinned a sharp-toothed grin and dangled his tongue like he thought he was Gene Simmons. Bakura rolled his eyes heavenward and wondered when the gods were going to stop cursing him like this. And why he hadn't thought to foist Marik off on Seto while he'd had the chance. Damn it. (And damn Odion. Ghoul-wrangling was _his_ job, after all.)

"Well, come on." Bakura sighed, motioning for the grinning ghoul to follow him outside. "But I'm warning you now, try to lick me and the next thing we cook will be braised ghoul tongue."

　

o0o

　

Although Bakura would've dearly loved to ditch Marik (possibly _in_ a ditch), he didn't dare allow the ghoul go off on his own. They had enough trouble without having an unsupervised ghoul running around getting into mischief (and fresh graves). With any luck they'd find Atem before it got much later and Bakura could go back to letting Marik be someone else's problem.

As if he knew what Bakura was thinking, Marik began dancing along beside him, singing merrily under his breath. After a moment's concentration, Bakura could make out the words Marik was muttering -- and wished he couldn't.

"...greasy gopher guts!"

Bakura whipped out his hand and wrapped his fingers around Marik's neck, cutting off the disgusting tune with an abrupt "erk!" on Marik's part. Hauling the ghoul in until they were nose to nose, Bakura said, "Not. One. More. _Word_."

"...'kay," Marik choked out, still grinning.

"Excellent." When Bakura let him go, Marik sank to the ground, hacking and coughing as he tried to get his breath back. "Once you're through sounding like a six-pack-a-day smoker, we'll continue with our search. Agreed?"

Marik flipped him off, but he also nodded so Bakura decided to take it as a win. He resumed walking. After a couple of minutes, Marik bounced up alongside, fully recovered and as perky as a hyperactive puppy on speed. They searched in silence for a time, until Marik got distracted by something small and furry (Bakura only hoped it was a squirrel or a raccoon and not one of those damned skunks), and had to be chased down before he treed the thing (or got sprayed -- Bakura was not going to spend the remainder of his night de-skunking a ghoul). Then he had to stop Marik from going after a jogger... and then a neighbor's cat... and then an armadillo that had apparently had a fatal encounter of the automotive kind and was splattered all over the right lane of the suburban street.

"But I'm _huuuungryyyy_ ," Marik wailed, as Bakura dragged him back onto the sidewalk.

Feeling his headache returning full-force, Bakura had to admit that maybe Odion deserved that vacation cruise after all if this was what he put up with all the time. It was a relief when his phone warbled at him, providing instant distraction from Marik's antics.

"So, I've got, like, fifty boxes of cake mix and a case of primo booze," said an unfamiliar and possibly stoned voice. "We need to start baking _right now_. Where are you and how fast can you get here?"

"I believe you have the wrong number, but I'm sorely tempted to join you anyway," Bakura said. He half-wondered if he could send them Marik instead.

"Oops! Sorry, dude." The call ended.

Marik, whose hearing wasn't as acute as that of the other supernaturals in the family, gave him a curious head tilt. "Was that Jo-Jo the Dog-faced Boy? Have they found Lord Atem?"

"Sadly, no."

"Bummer." Marik's exaggerated sad face morphed into a Cheshire Cat grin made all the more disturbing by the number of sharp teeth on display. He looked like a gleeful shark who'd just spotted a floundering swimmer. "Guess that means we get to spend more quality time together!"

"Joy." If by _joy_ Bakura meant _towering rage_. "Stop bouncing around like a demented pogo stick and put that nose of yours to use for something other than sniffing out roadkill. And stay off the street before you cause a wreck."

" _Oui, mon capitaine_!" Marik skipped happily along, nose in the air and making Darth Vader breathing noises as if that would prove he was obeying Bakura's orders.

That lasted exactly two mintues before Bakura had to snap out a hand to snatch the idiot back _again_ when he tried to dart into the path of an oncoming car. While he had a good grip on the ghoul, Bakura gave him a firm shake for good measure. "How the hell does Odion put up with you without losing his damn mind? The man must have the patience of a saint."

"I had patients once," Malik informed him, smacking his lips. "They were _delicious_."

Choosing to ignore that for the sake of his own sanity, Bakura said, "What the hell were you doing, anyway? I told you to stay out of the road."

"It's not my fault that your instructions were so vague and hard to follow!"

Next time, Bakura swore he was going to let the damn ghoul play in traffic unimpeded.

　

o0o

　

Another hour of _lather, rinse, repeat_ (and the people of this damn town had no idea how much they owed Bakura; their population would be a lot lower if Marik were uncontained) and Bakura had reached the end of his rope. Much more and he knew he'd be as off his nut as the nutjob beside him. When he stopped Marik -- _yet again_ \-- from climbing over a picket fence after someone's pet, Bakura couldn't take anymore. That was _it_. The last straw. Bakura's fragile patience snapped like an over-stretched rubberband. While he was worried about Atem (who was both a hopeless romantic and hopelessly awkward, and in no way equipped to go it alone in a world where vampires were myths at best and hunted at worst), there was no way Bakura could continue like this. He dug out his phone.

"Seto. Tell me you've found him," Bakura ordered without waiting for so much as a 'hello' once the call conected.

"I've found sixteen skunks, three lost dogs, and Carmen Sandiego," Seto's tone was as arid as the Sahara. Bakura could practically hear the camels plodding across it. "Still no sign of our fearless leader, though."

"This obviously isn't working. Regroup back at the house and we'll think of something else." If nothing else, it would be sun-up soon. And while the vampires were old enough not to be bothered, the same couldn't be said for Marik, whose ghoul nature meant he'd provide his own funeral pyre if exposed for more than a minute or two to the dawn. Which, though tempting, would undoubtedly get Bakura bitched at by Ishizu, and a bitchy Ishizu was something he definitely didn't need on top of everything else.

Seto grunted something that might have been an agreement and hung up. Bakura made good use of the grip he still had on Marik's shirt collar and used it to steer him back the way they'd come.

"I love our family," Marik said, apropos of nothing. "It truly puts the 'fun' back in 'dysfunctional'."

"What the hell are you babbling about?"

Marik slanted a sly look Bakura's way. "Like you don't know. This weekend proves we've got each other's backs... even if we sometimes stab each other in them."

Since he couldn't actually deny either accusation, Bakura just rolled his eyes. As much as he hated to admit it, Marik had a point. Maybe Bakura, Seto, and Atem hadn't always gotten along -- hell, they'd started out as enemies -- but after three thousand years, he guessed they'd grown on each other. Like fungus, maybe. Eh, he'd gotten used to having them around, and he was too old and set in his ways to change things now.

And, even if only in the privacy of his own head, maybe Bakura could admit that he didn't _want_ to get rid of them. Not even Atem, who had been a persistent pain in the ass for every single day of those three millennia. Well, obviously Bakura didn't want to be rid of the dumbass, or he wouldn't be slogging all over this damn town looking for him. Especially with a hyperactive ghoul in tow.

His worry renewed by his sentimental thoughts, Bakura phoned Ishizu. "Any word on Atem?"

"Yes," came the unexpected response. There was a strange note in her voice, something he couldn't place. "Come home," she said. Her voice was strained, barely a whisper, as if she were afraid of being overheard. "Quickly, please."

"What? Is something wrong?" Visions of hunters attacking the house or holding Atem hostage danced through his head. His hands clenched. "Ishizu! Tell me what's going on!"

"It's Atem--"

Without warning, Marik snatched the phone from Bakura's hand and hurled it into the bushes bordering the park they were passing. It sailed into the darkness on the other side and landed who knew where, though the faint splash Bakura heard suggested that the words _duck_ and _pond_ might be relevant.

"What the hell did you do that for?!" he screeched.

"Squirrel," said Marik serenely. "No doubt a spy for the Skunk Conspiracy."

It was several seconds before Bakura could form a response that wasn't composed entirely of obscenities. He spent those seconds attempting to strangle the air bare inches from Marik's trachea until he regained coherence. "...And that meant you had to _fling my phone at it_?"

"Sure," Marik said, scratching his head and giving Bakura his best innocentl look. "I didn't have anything else to throw."

Growling, Bakura threw up his hands and stalked away. He blamed the kitchen for this; if there was no kitchen, Atem wouldn't try to cook, and if he hadn't tried to cook he wouldn't be missing. And if he weren't missing, Bakura wouldn't be out here in the armpit of the night getting his phone hurled into random duck ponds by aggravating ghouls.

Once they got Atem back, Bakura was gutting that kitchen with extreme prejudice. And forget the home theater. He was turning that thing into his own personal spa.

　

o0o

　

It was fortunate that Bakura had already told the others to head back, since his phone was now sleeping with the fishes (thanks to Marik) and he had no way of calling for back-up if Ishizu was holding off a cadre of vampire hunters or something equally annoying. And with the kind of week Bakura was having, it would be just his luck. Vampire hunters, rival supernaturals, Girl Scouts selling cookies... Something had to be happening to put that odd note in Ishizu's voice. He just wished she'd had the chance to tell him what it was before his phone bit the big one. With a firm grip on Marik, Bakura raced back home.

When they got there, everything was quiet. Too quiet? The front of the house was dark, there were no strange vehicles in the driveway or parked suspiciously on the street. Some of the tension went out of his shoulders and he let go of the ghoul just as Seto and Joey arrived at a light jog. They looked as if they'd tangled with some particularly vicious landscaping (since both were sporting a rather festive assortment of twigs and leaves in their hair and clothes). Then Mahaad materialized with a pop of displaced air. The shadow-spawn looked as if the only alternate dimension he'd visited was called "Hawai'i"; he was wearing the loudest aloha shirt Bakura had ever been half-blinded by over his armor, had a flower lei around his neck, and was holding a tropical drink with a tiny umbrella in it. Bakura made a mental note to kill the shadow-spawn, right after he was done murdering Odion to death.

But, first things first.

While Bakura would've loved to go inside, go to bed, and not get up again unless the house was on fire or a week had passed, whichever came first, he still had a missing master vampire to find. More to the point, when he reached the front steps and tried to go in the house, Ishizu blocked his path. She raised a finger to her lips like she'd suddenly started channeling the spirit of a librarian, which Bakura took to mean that she wanted him to be quiet. Bakura nodded, then cast a quelling glance at Marik who mimed zipping his lips (and then shoving the pretend key down his pants. (Why? Why was Bakura cursed with these people? Oh, right. _Atem_.)

At least Ishizu didn't look upset, which Bakura hoped was a good sign (she was Marik's sister, so he figured he should take that with a grain of salt. After all, the things most people found upsetting were likely to send Marik into fits of unnerving giggles).

 _What is going on_? Bakura mouthed at her.

Ishizu motioned for him to follow her. She paused at the top of the steps to make the "shhh" gesture again, making sure they would obey, and then led the way as they all cat-footed to the kitchen. The pass-through into the dining room was closed but muted voices from the other room carried easily to supernaturally enhanced hearing. They all crowded around, each trying to peek through the gaps in the wooden shutters that covered the opening above one of the countertops.

From his prime spot smack dab in the center, Bakura could see through the strip of space where the two shutters didn't quite meet. There in the dining room, sitting at the table was Atem -- and Yugi Mutou. On the table in front of Yugi was a plate on which rested a half-eaten veggie burger, deflated bun, crumbly patty and all. It was topped with what looked like a generous dollop of Joey's homemade ketchup, several pickle slices, and a crisp green lettuce leaf. As Bakura watched in astonishment, Yugi picked up the burger and took another bite with every indication of genuine enjoyment.

Bakura blinked. Apparently Ishizu forgot to mention that Yugi was a masochist. Or maybe all that mucking about with the natural order of the flaxseed had ruined the portion of his brain devoted to taste. Whatever the reason, Yugi Mutou was eating Atem's cooking and... smiling. And not one of Marik's "I'm mangling you in my daydreams" smiles, but a real, happy, honest-to-goodness _smile_. Dragging his gaze away from this improbability, Bakura turned his attention back to Atem.

Atem was watching Yugi eat with a soft look of wonder on his face. When Yugi set the burger aside, Atem reached out and took one of Yugi's hands in his. They beamed at one another.

Good grief, Bakura thought. He'd heard of "sunny" smiles before, but if he set up a photovoltaic cell in there with those two, he could collect enough energy to run the damn town for a fortnight.

And then all thoughts of alternative energy vanished when Atem, still clasping Yugi's hand, sank to one knee.

Beside Bakura, Ishizu clutched at the countertop. Her eyes were shining with delighted anticipation. Bakura would never admit it on pain of death but he felt a little thrill himself. Was this what it looked like? Were they really going to get to see--?

"Will you marry me?" Atem's usually confident (some would say _overconfident_ ) voice was breathless and filled with hope.

Yugi's already sunny smile went supernova. He flung his arms around Atem's neck, hugging him tightly even as he gasped, "Yes!"

And then there was way too much kissing for Bakura to stomach, especially after a scene so saccharine he was lucky not to have ended up in a diabetic coma. He turned away just in time to spot Marik about to do something loud and extremely Marik-like, so he grabbed the ghoul and hauled him bodily toward the back door.

With a quick glower he gathered up the rest of the eavesdroppers and got them all out of the kitchen before one of them did something to disturb the newly engaged lovebirds. While he'd never admit it to a soul (living, dead, or undead), Bakura rather thought that Atem had earned some peaceful time with his beloved.

They all stood in the backyard and grinned at each other like loons for a few minutes. Then Ishizu gave a wistful sigh and said, "I guess the way to a man's heart really is through his stomach."

"Still pretty sure it's through his sternum," Marik argued.

Joey chimed in with his own opinion on the relevant body part (which was a good deal lower and unmentionable in polite company), then Seto added his two cents, and Mahaad went off on some pseudo-poetic tangent that only made sense to shadow-spawn...

And Bakura just exhaled, enjoying the contentment fizzing underneath the familiar banter, and tilted his head back to gaze at the fading stars as dawn edged up on the horizon. For now, (un)life was good.

　

o0o

Epilogue

Bakura still gutted the kitchen. He just waited until Atem was on his honeymoon with Yugi to do it. (And the newlyweds came back to find a restaurant-quality kitchen awaiting them, as Bakura's belated wedding gift. Yugi was thrilled.)

　

　

FINIS

 


End file.
